Aqua
by BlackTwistedTwilight
Summary: A promise to keep, a journey to conquer, a love to hide. Sounds fun doesn't it? Cleo and Taffy are flung head first into a crazy adventure that will shake their friendship, and their sanity, to the roots. And the fact that they're constantly being followed by two annoyingly persistent boys doesn't help. Not. At. All. OCxOC OCxOC
1. Bloody Awful Reputations

_Tick, tock, tick, tock _

_Just a little closer!_

_Tick, tock, tock_

_Five, four, three, two, one…_

RIIIIINNNGGG!

My classroom exploded as all twenty of my fellow twelfth grader classmates sprung from their seats, snatched up their worn math books, and flung them haphazardly into their satchels, until I alone remained. I sighed, finished my problem quickly; and calmly and slowly began to close all of my books, my pencil case, and my notebook full of my observations and pack them away in my black backpack. The teacher, Mrs. Corrine, rapped her nails against the wooden desk, obviously impatient at my blatant refusal to run around like a chicken with my head cut off. "Cleopatra? Are you quite done? The bell has rung already," she chirped, trying to put on a show of happiness. How bizarre.

"I know that, Mrs. Corrine, I am neither deaf, nor blind to the fact that the second I leave the room, Mr. Nate is going to enter the room from that window with assistance from his Jynx." I flung my finger out to the side and gestured to one of the larger windows on the side of the building facing the parking lot, "I'll be gone in just a minute." I shouldered my bag and slid over to the door. I turned back for just a second, "He's married." And I was gone, leaving Mrs. Corrine to gape stupidly like a Magikarp.

Another strike against my less than satisfying relationships with the teachers of this hellhole. Yay!

I never expected much from my life, school for six or seven years, maybe less, then college; a breeze, what could challenge me anymore? And then a job. A stupid job that would bore me to death. How monotonous. Life is either boring, horrific, or sad. Very rarely is it happy, but those moments are to be treasured. My phone buzzed against my thigh, reminding me it needed to be charged.

When I was small, ten to be exact, on my birthday, my Momma gave me that phone. I still had it. The only contacts I had was my momma's at the time. I remember that day perfectly. I remember everything, but that day was in color. Pulling my simple green flip phone out of my pocket, I scrolled through my contacts- two to be exact- and clicked my mother's icon. A single text lit up the screen.

_To: Cleo_

_From: Mommy_

_Hey, Baby! I hope you like the new phone! You better use it when you're traveling the world, winning ribbon, after ribbon, after ribbon! I'm so proud of you! :) Even if you're far, far away, I'll be watching over you. Love, Mommy_

I sniffed loudly. I hate my birthday. I hate it, hate it, hate it! I watched her. Only ten and I watched my life crumble before my eyes.

"_Hi Mommy!" I waved cheerily from the steps of my elementary school. She glanced up from across the road, and a beautiful smile broke across her face. _

"_Hi, Sweetie!" She walked across the road, arms outstretched to hug me. A car, a black car with neon colors splattered all over it, came hurtling down the road, so much faster than the limit. She never even saw it coming. But I did. The red of her blood stood out, so bright against the white of the cot the medics placed her on. They wheeled her into the ambulance; Chanseys rushing to stay by her, taking her blood pressure and her vital signs. I never saw her again, except at the funeral, but right before the doors blocked her from my view, her hand moved weakly and dropped something on the ground. And she smiled. I walked slowly to where she had dropped a pink ribbon with a golden crown on the muddy ground. Picking it up with a trembling hand, I clutched it to my heart, and made a promise. "I swear, Mommy. I'm going to be the best." _

That promise was never kept. I was tucked away in a special school for the advanced, but I was transferred quickly. Apparently, teachers don't like a child who can tell all their deepest, darkest secrets, just by looking at them. So here I am. Whiteside High school, also know as Clique Capital. You have the 'populars,' 'jocks,' 'nerds,' and of course, the 'I don't belong anywhere,' people who, true to their names, don't belong in any group. One guess to where I belong. You guessed it, the poor sucker's group where any person I engage with is ostracized immediately. Lucky me. I don't care though, it's not like I have any desire for friends or popularity. I'm not going to be here much longer. I sighed, and flipped my phone shut. Lunchtime! The only brightish spot of my day.

I pushed on the double doors of the cafeteria. The second everyone looked to see who entered the large cafeteria, a wave of silence washed over the entire room. No one in his or her right mind would cross me. I am the devil of the school; you want something done, you ask me, but for a simple price: a secret I don't already know.

Gracie, a sophomore 'popular' stood up, a new boy toy on her arm. With platinum dyed yellow hair that washed over her shoulders and vivid purple eyes, she was spectacularly ugly, but _no,_ according to any guy, she was 'gorgeous,' 'hot,' and 'show stopping.'

"Why, hello Cleo! How's your day going? Oh, have you met my new boyfriend, Branson?" I gave her boyfriend an up down. Smudge of lipstick on his sleeve, not Gracie's shade, girl's socks- how does one miss that?- and is that a hint of perfume I detect? (Also not Gracie's) I may despise Gracie, but I'm not that mean.

"Just how long have you been going out?"

"About a week… why?" Good, she's learned to answer my questions, even if she's suspicious.

"He's cheating. Dump him now."

"_What?"_ I gave a long sigh, though internally I was smiling. I just _love _proving Gracie wrong.

By now the entire cafeteria was listening, and Branson was looking very uncomfortable, "The smudge on his sleeve. It's lipstick, a shade you don't wear, plus he's wearing girl's socks, and can't you smell the perfume? Actually the only girl who wears that perfume is…" I looked around the cafeteria with a closed eye, "her." The girl I pointed to jumped and looked very guilt-ridden.

"No way. Branson, she's lying right?" Gracie pleaded, clutching the arm of her completely guilty boyfriend.

"Er, well, uh…" he stuttered and looked down shamefaced.

"_Katherine!?_ You picked Katherine over _me_!? I can't believe you!" Gracie dropped his arm and slapped him across the face before stalking over to join her clique, who all offered words of condolence and sympathy.

Great. How many relationships have I ruined now? Let's see…. there was that one with Chucky, Carrie, Drake, Deedee, Simone, Callie, Simon, Dorothy, Frank _and_ Mark, that was awkward… I've lost track. Gracie picked herself up and walked saucily over to the only guy who hadn't looked even remotely interested. Gryphon. Eugh. With spiked, long, dark blue hair that draped over his piercing, sarcastic emerald eyes, he was definitely 'hot,' in the words of every girl in the school. I still don't get why I don't see it. Females surrounded him, all drooling over his every action. Shameful.

"Hey, Gryphon, I was wondering-" she started, blinking 'cutely' at him. Fangirls hissed at her.

"No," he said bluntly, cutting her off before she even finished asking him out. He just gained points in my book.

"But..."

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"Oh, _come on_, Gryph, you know you want to," she said seductively, running her pastel pink fingernail down his well-muscled arm. With a look of pure contempt, he smacked her hand away, earning even more points in my books. We can't have this, gain a few more points and I'm going to actually have to tolerate him.

"Don't touch me Grace." And he brushed past her, followed by hordes of fan girls. Taffy joined me silently.

Taffy is my best friend, has been for five years, ever since her mom picked me up after I watched my mom killed right in front of me. She let me stay at her house and contacted me dad, who had no idea where I was and didn't really care. Taffy had sat behind her couch for thirty minutes before gathering up the courage to talk to me. One word, and we were inseparable.

"Hi," She muttered, looking faintly ill. Taffy had never done well with crowds and in case no one noticed, there are lots of people (and Pokémon, though they shouldn't technically be at school. It's a game: who can sneak in the most of their friends!) at a school.

"Hi," I grumbled softly, partially to myself, and partially to her. She bumped me with her shoulder and we sat down in a less than savory corner before she dug a cookie and a ham sandwich out of her pocket. I accepted the food gratefully, and dug in hungrily. "Hard day," I said through a mouthful of food. It wasn't a question. I could tell just from looking at her. Anyone could. Her shoulders were drooped from her backpack wearing at her, and she had faint dark circles under her eyes from staying up late studying. Math most likely. Taffy always struggled with math. I offered to tutor her on _numerous_ occasions, but she always refused, said she would never get it. We might be the same age-fifteen- but we are by no means equally matched in the brains department. I've been in twelfth grade two years now. Apparently, the board of directions requires at least six years of school before graduation. Stupid rule, if you ask me.

Taffy's in ninth grade, and struggles in math, science, and Pokémon history; she excels in Coordinating though, and brings the roof down with her routines, even with the school's Pokémon. No student is allowed their own Pokémon before thirteen, and never at school, as I mentioned before. "You guessed it," she mumbled through her cheeseburger. I broke the cookie in half and passed her half the Hitmontop cookie. It was gone in two seconds.

"Is the bit-" She shot me a warning look. Taft refused to let me swear in her presence, but I 'forget' sometimes. I'm working on my little problem. "Sorry. Is the _jerk_ bothering you again?" She nodded and took a bite of her sandwich, the lettuce crunching under her resilient white teeth.

"Want me to tell everyone she's cheating on her math tests?" I asked eagerly. Much to my disappointment, she shook her head.

"Nah, that won't solve the problem."

"Speaking of problems..." I started, this was the perfect time, "There's this thing I was going to talk to you about, I was going to save it for later, but now's a good a time as any!"

"Yeah? What?" she mumbled dryly.

"I'm leaving."

"_What!?"_

**Here's chapter one of my rewritten story! If you hate it, tell me, and it'll be gone within a few days and I'll resume work on the original. You guys must **_**love**_** me.**


	2. Baboonski

**Hey! Ta-dah! It's a-me, Twi! You know you love me. Yes, I see the stones you are hiding behind your backs. Shame on you. Any-whooo, let's go!**

_~Taffy's Point of View~_

"You're not going alone."

"You can't stop me."

"Watch me!"

"Oh, you wanna go?"

"Heck, no! I can't fight! I was more thinking along the lines of hurling you in a closet."

"Oh, just you try!"

"Oh, I'll try alright!"

"Get off my case!"

"Never! I'm your best friend, I'm supposed to be on your case!"

"Why, you-! I outta-! ARGH! Taffy, I hate you sometimes!"

"That means I'm doing my job correctly."

"Well, what do you want me to do? I'm _not _staying here_,_ and leaving's the only other option."

"I never said you couldn't leave."

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I said you couldn't leave _alone._"

"And just what does that mean?"

"I'm packing my stuff and going with you."

"Say **what**?" Cleo was shocked to say the least. Where had _that_ come from?

I took a deep breath, "Lemme break it down for you: _I'm—_that means me, Taffy, your best friend_…going—_that means I'm going to leave here_… with—_accompanying_… you_—that's you, Hun. Cleopatra. My best friend." I put my hand on my hip and I looked her dead in her aquamarine eyes. She looked surprisingly similar to a dying Magikarp on crack.

"… But-!" she started.

"No. Not going to work. You know me. I am stubborn. I am Mistress of the Stubborn People. Heck, they bow down to me and worship me as their Queen! You know you will not get anywhere with me. So give it up, and help me pack my stuff." I may not be _'Book smart,_' per say, but I know how to stand my ground and get what I want.

Cleo sat silently, pondering over what I had just said, and analyzing any and every opening and possible way to get me to take everything back. Good luck.

"… Two days." I heard her mutter under her breath.

"What?"

"I'll give you two days. If you can stand being with me for two days, I'll stop bitching and let you stay. Two days."

"Deal. Prepare to eat your words, Snow Queen."

"Oh, you're on, Bubblegum Head!"

After a mock stare down, both of us burst into laughter and shouldered our backpacks. We didn't even get strange looks. Pros and cons of being socially invisible: Pros: We get to do whatever we want and nobody gives a crap, we don't have to worry about appearances, and we get to stalk everybody and they don't even notice—actually, I get to stalk people and I just drag Cleo along, something about 'personal privacy,' or some jazz like that. Please, it's hilarious what people do when they think no one's looking. Cons: very few friends; if people do notice us, it's normally not good attention; gossip central, we are; and, of course, we are _always, always_, the last people picked for sports teams.

I am a lower class social invisible, meaning people actually talk to me and I'm somewhat high up on the picking of sports teams—_liiiies_. Cleo, on the other hand, bless her heart, is the highest class social reject. If I'm not constantly watching her, she'll be shoved into a locker. They'll pay for it with their reputation, but it'll happen. Trust me, it happens. It's bad.

"See you later. Maths. Who the heck invented Maths anyways? They deserve to be burned at the stake, and then buried six feet under!"

"Without Maths, how would you know when he was six feet under?"

"Good point. Bye-bye, Girl."

"See ya."

And we parted ways.

I've known Cleo for a long, long time, and I still don't understand her. How can she be so smart, and so beautiful, and yet so completely at war with herself? If I were as pretty as her, with her shin-length white hair and her pretty aquamarine eyes with her big long lashes, I'd be strutting my stuff on the runway!

But she's so sad.

I can make her smile and laugh, but when I'm not around, and she thinks no one's looking, she just kind of deflates. Like she just gives up. Maybe it's the way she's made, or her traumatizing back story; I don't know, but it breaks my heart.

But all I can do is press on and be there when she needs me; no way in hell am I letting her go anywhere without me. She'll fall to bits.

Just two days. I can do this. I will do this. There's no way I will let her do this on her own.

* * *

**~Physical Education, 1:00~**

"Late!" barked Mr. Babinski, the PE teacher who was built like a steamroller mixed with tractor mixed with _Titanic_. The poor fool he had caught sneaking into his place after the bell had rung groaned loudly and dropped to the ground and started doing squat-thrusts. Fifty of them, all including that stupid little thing where you have to jump up and clap your hands together. Yuck.

"Mr. Babinskiiiiiiii!" came a high-pitched squeal. Gracie came trotting over with her ridiculously high heels and her $60,000 purse; still dressed in a tight white skirt and a dangerously hot pink v-cut tank top.

"Ah, yes, Gracie?"

Ah, yes. The suck up teacher. Just because Gracie's dad was the CEO of the board, every single teacher treated her like royalty. Grow a backbone, dude!

"I need extra time to change." Sure. It's not like she's actually going to do any exercise, unless she thinks it's going to accent her flabby abs. She needs two things, sit-ups, and more sit-ups!

"Of course, take all the time you need. I'll be here, _disciplining these young brats!_" As he screamed the last part, spittle flew from his lips. Everybody took several hasty steps back.

"Thanks, Hun. My friends are coming too. Don't mark us tardy, m'kay?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

Shoot me in the foot.

Cleo came panting up, clutching her books and her hair in a sloppy high ponytail. "I'm sorry I'm late, Mr. Babinski, my class was let out late!"

"**I don't want to hear your excuses, Cleopatra! I want one hundred pushups! NOW!" **

Everyone's jaw dropped. Even the boys who screwed around in class only got fifty! And girls were only supposed to get thirty, at most!

"W-what? I-I need time to change!"

"**Well, you don't get it! Do them NOW! In front of the entire class! Drop, Cleopatra, drop!" **

Now, Cleo is a very strong person. Nothing fazes her. She's calm and collected—with a temper of a volcano—and always analytical. But the PE teacher had always been the one person she couldn't read, partially because he simply had no secrets. Everything was out in the open for him. For that reason only, he terrifies Cleo, and I'm the only one that knows it.

But screw that! Aside from the abusive punishment, Mr. Babinski didn't notice, or didn't care, what Cleo was wearing: a pair of jeans, flats tied with ribbons, and a white top that was incredibly tight down the sides. The front was loose, partially cause it was a hand-me-down from her deceased mother. She can't possibly do pushups in that!

"B-but-!"

"**NOW!"** he roared at her.

Almost in tears, Cleo placed her books on the ground and, in front of the entire class, knelt down and started doing pushups. The very first one, all the seams down the side split and fell apart. The whole shirt fell to pieces, revealing her svelte form and her white bra. The boys wolf-whistled at her, and Cleo turned blood red.

I covered my hands with my mouth and started forward, but was yelled at by the teacher to, 'Stay put, or you're going to be in detention for the rest of the year!'

Cleo continued on, tears falling freely now. She was only at twenty and her shirt had fallen almost completely off.

"P-please, Mr. Babinski! Her shirt, just let me-!"

"Shut up, Rosade! This is her punishment for being late, it's good if it's embarrassing!"

Now I was close to tears. How had this teacher not been fired yet? He's cruel and over the top!

Cleo slowly struggled to hit thirty. "That's enough." A voice rang out from one of the corners.

"Eh? Who said that!?"

"Me. And I said, that's enough. She's done thirty. That's as many as you're allowed to give girls. She can stop now." The crowd parted as none other that Gryphon pushed his way through the masses.

"Now, listen here, Mystic! This is my class-"

"And my dad's the principle; you wanna take it up with him?" Gryphon knelt beside the shaking Cleo. He quickly stripped off his signature green jacket with yellow neck and cuffs and tucked it around her shoulders. She sat up, wiped the tears off her face, and put on the jacket.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. He nodded. At that very moment, my entire view on Gryphon, the snotty, playboy, arrogant, pig-headed, jerk changed. I saw a side of him I never even knew existed. And I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

Mr. Babinski struggled to find words, turns various shades of red, and decided his job was more valuable than his pride. "Fine. Get back in your spot, Mystic, and you… just go change. Rosade, go with her." I bolted from my spot and hurled myself on her. She patted my hands and I helped her to her feet. Clutching the jacket around her, she allowed me to usher her to the bathroom, where I ran to find her some clothes. Her bag had vanished when I went to go look for it. It had to have been Gracie.

So I had to settle for a plain white t-shirt and some dark green shorts, as well as my extra set of sneakers.

Cleo put it on and we oozed our way back to the hellhole, where _Baboonski_ was yelling at someone else. I nudged her shoulder, "You got this. Just don't make eye-contact with anyone else."

"Sure thing. I'm going to crush him. I'll make something up if I have to!"

"Oh, Cleo. Don't go down that path. Just hold out for an hour and a half, and then you never have to see these people again."

"I make no promises. When I'm through with him, he's going to think he got run over by a Snorlax."

"Arceus! Don't kill him or anything…"

"Moderate brain damage?"

"…"

"Fine. Light brain damage. That's as low as I'm going."

"… Deal."

**Me: And that's a wrap, Folks!**

**Cleo: What the-? You made me look weak!**

**Me: I had to make Gryphon look good!**

**Cleo and Taffy: Why?**

**Me: *****cough***** no reason *cough cough***

**Taffy: What are you planning…?**

**Me: *Cough cough cough cough* Evil things *Cough cough cough***

**Gryphon: That's right, I'm the good guy here. *Punched by Cleo***

**Cleo: Don't get ahead of yourself! You're still a jerk!**

**Me: Excuse me while I separate these two. Byyyyeeee~!**

**P.S I had to make Mr. Babinski as mean as possible to make sure nobody like, hated Gryphon before his time. So, don't rage on how he was over the top cruel or anything. INTERNET COOKIES TO ALL!**


End file.
